Emil let the chops simmer for over an hour.
"No need for a knife tonight unless it's for spreading butter on the bannock. Um, um, I do like my pork chops. And like them tender to the bone. It's all about the tomatoes and onions. Throw in some broccoli to steam on top of the mix and you've got the four basic food groups, red, white, green and pig. What say we wash this down with a couple of brews. Archie me lad, that's your first go-fer."
My Uncle figured if you're going to work like a man, the laws of alcohol consumption could be stretched a bit. Besides, it was just us and the bugs. Throw in an everything in moderation and all was right with the world. I appreciated the offer. Even had a Grain Belt but to be honest I preferred water, milk, juice or coke. Hard to enjoy something if you don't like how it tastes.
A hundred feet back from camp was the cat hole for nature's necessity. Eventually it'd become an outhouse but for now it was open to the breezes. On my first visit I spied a field mouse in the pit. I questioned its choices in life. Hoped my future held better judgement but, one way or the other, me and the mouse would end up the same.
As the sun lowered we settled in to await the arrival of night. Couple of hours with time on our hands. A year to catch up with coffee and cookies to accompany our conversation.
"Spent last winter down in Florida. Not your senior citizen Florida with the early bird special. Nope, I rented a cabin on Lake Okeechobee. Came with a small boat and motor for a few bucks extra. Played bass master for four months. Don't know if that's a wise thing for a Minnesota boy like me to do. Up here a five pounder's a wall hanger. Down there it's bait. Can't even get an 'ooo-eee that's a big ol' bass' out of the locals unless it's at least ten pounds. Got so I quit bass fishing and took to sunfish instead. Only they don't call 'em sunnies down there. Call 'em brim. The word's actually bream but down south they have their own language. Even wanders over the line into english once in a while."
I had to cut in, "Ten pound bass? How could anyone get tired of ten pounders? 'Spose the brim were three pounds."
"Nope. Nary a one over two. Now the crappies were another story. Near as big as the bass. And weeds? Lord do they have weeds down there. You let a big bass get down into the sedge on the bottom and you better be on a barge with a diesel winch aboard. But I have to tell you Archie me lad, big bass or no, Florida's not Minnesota. Give me that brook down below any day. Or a canoe digging into the wind over on John Lake heading toward the portage into East Pike."
Nothing I could say about that. My mind was already in the bow seat bent into a power stroke with Emil to the rear giving me all the grief in the world. I wanted to hit the water so badly it hurt.
"What's the plan for the next week?"
"Simple, we work like dogs for ten or more hours each day. Keep at it till we run out of clean clothes and food then head to town for the laundromat and grocery store. Catch a meal while in Grand Marais, hit the saw mill, then head back up the Gunflint and do it all over again. Simple, eh?"
I could live with that but didn't exactly want to. Where was the fishing, the canoeing and the days with nothing but time on our hands? Guess the disappointment in my eyes gave it away.
"Oh yeah, almost forgot. Some evenings we'll work the stream for a few brookies. Maybe even try our luck on a couple of others. Or head off on a trip or two into the border waters. Can't put the good stuff off 'til tomorrow all the time. As I see it, we'll be on the run until you pack up and head home for school in september. Okay with you?"
"Sure." Nothing else I could say. I was there for the summer no matter what.
"Before we turn in there's something you need to see."
He rose and led me down a deer path paralleling the stream.
"Keep your distance or you'll get a face whippin' from the brush. Back in training when we learned about patrolling we were told to keep fifteen yards between us. Doubt we'll be ambushed tonight but get too close and you'll quickly learn to back off."
The trail told me deer walk head down or were shorter than I thought. Didn't know what to expect 'til they were in sight. Pines, really big pines, surrounded on the forest floor by a lake of long, narrow cones. Just a pair of the trees, indication of roots rising from the duff, side by side and rising to the sky.
"I think of them as sentinels, keeping watch over the forest, making sure all below shows respect to the land. Spotted them last fall when the woods opened up after the leaves were down. Never measured either one. Doubt I ever will. Figure they might be four feet on the stump and something over a hundred foot tall. Probably been here since Ben Franklin was a baby. Before the forest was clear cut there might have been thousands in the area even bigger. Figure these were saved by the Weldons. Smart move and a blessing. Makes me feel good just knowing these white pines are still here."
We remained staring skyward 'til our necks gave out.
In the tent, my cot with air mattress atop was as good as a bed. The day had been a glory of sun and warmth. Not so the night. In the land of frost the ground rules the night. Once the sun sets, an extra layer of protection is called for. In the bag that night I slept with a stocking cap on. Heat is good. My eyes shut and I was dead to the world.
No comments:
Post a Comment